Helen’s thoughts had gone to the dreadful tropical island, miles away, and she saw before her mind’s eye this mere boy who eight months ago had gone cheerfully into the very jaws of death in the hopes of saving another officer, and that officer her own brother. She knew that her father regarded him with the affection of a father for a son, and as Phil had been an orphan for many years, had talked openly to her of making him a son in fact as well as in thought. Phil’s enthusiastic letters from the Philippines had always fallen into her hands after her father had read them, and she had kept them all. To her he was “Phil,” and she desired nothing greater than that, conventionality being brushed aside, they should speak as well as think of each other by their first names. Sydney suddenly returned and reported that Impey and Inaba were about to leave, and were approaching. Phil’s heart beat wildly at Sydney’s alarming news; he dreaded meeting this inscrutable Japanese, whose eyes seemed to be able to read one’s very thoughts. He had seen him but once at short range: in the navy building after the messenger had been carried there; but he had taken away with him the indelible impression of those far-seeing eyes. Impey and Inaba were coming from down the hall, the ambassador with them, and all three were strangely constrained and silent. Their way led past the open door of the library. Phil realized that to avoid a meeting was impossible. Helen was already in the doorway, and as hostess her smile was being bestowed upon her father’s visitors. She gave her hand to the naval officer, who bowed low over it, striking his heels together in the military fashion; and then she bestowed a more intimate smile upon Robert Impey. “It was not polite of you,” she said to him in mock severity, “to stay away from the ball last night after you had asked me for two dances.” Impey blushed in confusion, murmuring that a sudden business call had deprived him of the pleasure of dancing with her. Helen made a sign of incredulity, and became suddenly aware that an introduction was necessary. “Captain Inaba, I thought you had met Mr. Perry and Mr. Monroe,” she said apologizingly. All three bowed, and Phil would have gladly welcomed an earthquake to swallow him from sight. “I owe you an apology, Mr. Perry,” Captain Inaba said in a low voice. The others had walked to the far corner of the library leaving the two alone together. “I was greatly disturbed when I last saw you, and am afraid I was not courteous. I have since seen your great friend and also mine, Lieutenant Takishima, and am sensible of the honor of having your aid in this painful misunderstanding. The lost letter was a great shock, but we hope to soon regain it.”